Margaret Atwood

Night Poem

There is nothing to be afraid of,it is only the windchanging to the east, it is onlyyour father the thunderyour mother the rain

In this country of waterwith its beige moon damp as a mushroom,its drowned stumps and long birdsthat swim, where the moss growson all sides of the treesand your shadow is not your shadowbut your reflection,

You rock in the rain's armsthe chilly ark of your sleep,while we wait, your nightfather and motherwith our cold hands and dead flashlight,knowing we are onlythe wavering shadows thrownby one candle, in this echoyou will hear twenty years later.